


The Old Fisherman

by january_sunshine



Category: Free!
Genre: Bittersweet, Childhood, Festivals, Gen, goldfish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 21:53:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/january_sunshine/pseuds/january_sunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had become a tradition for Makoto to find the old fisherman every Saturday afternoon, wave and welcome him back onto shore after a hard day's work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Old Fisherman

**Author's Note:**

> For the Free! kink meme.

He was sixty-seven years old, still tall and strong with dark eyes that twinkled every time he smiled. And boy, did the man smile a lot! His hair was dark still, streaked with silver, still kept short and well-combed. His skin was dark, tan, muscles sculpted and firm and hands rough and solid with callouses.  
  
His name was...  
  
Well, he had a name, but Makoto just knew him as Ojiisan.  
  
That afternoon, after school, Makoto had gone to the pier after the boat had sailed back in. It smelled of fresh fish and sea water, and even though he wasn't a huge fan of the smell, he was more curious than anything. Hand over his nose, he breathed in and out through his mouth as he watched the man tug the latest shipment off of the boat.  
  
There were at least twenty or thirty dead fish there. All eyes wide, silver-scaled, scattered about in the net. Makoto, grimacing, turned his head and just watched the sails of other boats silhouetted in the evening sun. But as the sun began to set, the old fisherman called out to tell him it was late, and Makoto quickly headed home.  
  
\--   
  
A few days later, he returned. It was a Saturday evening, and he and Haru-chan had gone for snacks. Chewing on a fruit gummy, he watched as the fisherman carried a pole from the boat, slung over his shoulder. It was so long, it looked like it was almost twice his height!  
  
Curiosity had him walking closer, and he soon found himself face to face with the man, whose eyes were soft and focused on him.  
  
"You're back," he said.  
  
"Mm. Are you always on a boat, Ojiisan?" Makoto asked.  
  
The fisherman smiled, giving Makoto a pat on the head. His hand was wet, splashed with sea water, and Makoto had to smile when he felt the moisture cling to his hair.  
  
"It's my job," the older man answered. "Most days, I go fishing so I can sell the fish. But today I went fishing with my rod. I don't get to do that a lot."  
  
"Is fishing fun?" the child asked, suddenly curious. Fishing was never something that had caught Makoto's eye, but hearing him talk about it made it sound interesting.  
  
The fisherman gave a nod. "It's a ton of fun if you like fish and boats. Maybe you'll get to go fishing one day."  
  
Makoto wanted to try fishing sometime.  
  
\--  
  
The next Saturday, the old fisherman had his rod out once again. Makoto had a friend with him this time, his bestest buddy Haru-chan. Upon sight of the fisherman, Makoto grabbed Haru's hand and ran to meet the gentleman, a bright smile on his face. Saturdays like these were great.  
  
"I'm back," the old fisherman greeted.  
  
"Welcome back!" Makoto's voice was loud, but cheerful, with enough energy for the two. He seemed oblivious to the surprise of his friend, whose blue eyes stared straight forward.  
  
The fisherman smiled and pat both of their heads, hands slightly damp wth seawater. Makoto could smell the salt.  
  
"Did you go fishing again today?" he asked.  
  
"I did. Today was a day for just me. Do you and your buddy here want to see?"  
  
Makoto spared a glance at Haru, who seemed too full of wonder and curiosity to object. That, in Haru-speak, Makoto decided, meant yes. And the fisherman brought them both over to the side of his boat to show them the fish he had caught.  
  
The bucket got a smile out of Haru. "Mackerel..."  
  
They each took a fish home. It was gross, slimy and long with big, round, open eyes. There was a bit of red leaking from the packaging. "Where the hook cut the inside," the fisherman had explained. It happened with fish, when you used a hook instead of a net. They bled, just like people did. But they were harmless, and their mothers could cook them. That evening, Makoto watched diligently as his mother cleaned the fish, cut and carved carefully, and how well she fried it for dinner.  
  
He hoped his mom could always make fish like that.  
  
\--  
  
It had become a tradition for Makoto to find the old fisherman every Saturday afternoon, wave and welcome him back onto shore after a hard day's work. Some weekends, the fisherman had to work, and he would be gone for days on end. As the seasons changed, they had to find other areas richer in fish. Makoto thought to step by, just in case.  
  
On the first Saturday Makoto saw the old fisherman again, after a month's worth of not running into him, Makoto ran forward and gave him the biggest hug.  
  
\--  
  
He had no coins left in his kinchaku. Makoto gripped the bag loosely, a string looped around his wrist. He had spent the last of his coins on the cotton candy, and his mother had told him that she wasn't giving him more than the money he already had. It was supposed to be a lesson on spending carefully and saving... And, of course, he blew that quickly.  
  
Well, he could always  _watch_  the fish. Even though he couldn't take one home, he enjoyed seeing them swim around. They were cute, little orange and golden and white flashes of color. The goal of the catching game was simple: you had a paper net and you had to catch a fish before the net broke. If you caught it, you could take it home.  
  
Haru and Makoto both tried last year, and it ended in three broken nets the goal of trying again the next year. Well... they could try again the year after.  
  
Round green orbs observed as nets dashed in and out of the little pool, and he found himself on edge every time someone came close to catching a fish. You had to be crafty in these waters, it seemed. Had to watch carefully, know where the fish wanted to swim next. And then... dive in!  
  
Makoto's legs were becoming stiff from squatting so long. See you next year, little goldfish, he thought quietly to the small pools as he began his slow walk away. Maybe he should go back to find his mother... She said she'd stay close if he was staying by the pool. If she was done, perhaps they could get a dango and go home, and--  
  
"Ah, Makoto!"  
  
Whipping around, Makoto's eyes landed on the fisherman. And his quiet mood had immediately disappeared. He immediately greeted him, told him of the fish. "Just like the ones you catch, all slimy and everything!" But alive, alive and happy.  
  
"Like these?" the fisherman asked as he held up a bag. "I saw you weren't playing the games anymore, so I thought I would surprise you."  
  
Makoto's face lit up, cheeks covered in a youthful honeyglow from a warmth that spread all throughout his chest. He didn't think he had ever been happier to receive a fish. As the plastic bag was delicately placed in his hands, with a promise that he  _would not drop it_ , Makoto decided he needed to name them. So, as the fisherman helped him find his way back to his mother, he welcomed three new additions to his family.  
  
Before a day like tomorrow, his young spirit didn't need to think of farewells, only fond greetings and the warmest smiles with hugs that were slightly damp and smelled of the sea.  
  
 _Au wa wakare no hajime._


End file.
